


Lesbian Space Pirate Odyssey

by wirehat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Don't Judge Me, F/F, F/M, Other, Space Pirates, Transhumanism, lesbian space pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirehat/pseuds/wirehat
Summary: I found the genre sorely lacking anything with legit plot.A half-human lesbian space pirate waltzes into trouble with the local warlord who is an alien. In her bid to escape, what horrors will she uncover?
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

"That's the ship?"

"That's the ship."

"That's the ship..."

Layal could feel her back muscles tense up just looking at the massive beast of a vessel up ahead. She'd done trade deals on large vessels before and in large cities. She'd sold to the occassional rogue soldier that wanted to spice up his armory, and she'd sold to wealthy celebrities who wanted whatever hard to locate gem or contraption they'd "misplaced." And she'd always done well enough to avoid military ships even rumored to belong to royal warmongers. But all her sources for her new client supposedly checked out. This one should be fine. 

"I"ll call him again before we board. I don't want any mistakes," she muttered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "You sure you traced this right, Conrad?"

A burly bear of a man with a prosthetic eye rolled his head over and scowled at her.

"I vetted him myself," he drawled. He leaned against the bay door, crossing his arms over his wide chest. "You've read my logs, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but there's so much that can go wrong," Layal responded, reading from a tablet in front of her. She was well enough away from the military ship and had paid a pretty penny to get a Class 1 cloaking system in place that she doubted they'd spot her unless they were specifically looking for her ship. From what intel she could gather over the past few weeks about this particular vessel they were preparing to board, it was a smaller warship, but most experts considered it at least A-Tier belonging to a captain of some ruling House.

Those rumors plus the very real reports that only the best troops were boarded and any civilians that used it as a mobile city were war-trained as well did not ease any of Layal's worries. Her own crew was quite apt in their individual roles, but there were what, 30 of them at most? And if things went bad, she'd be stuck on a Spartan-styled warship with no direct escape.

The particular client aboard this ship was, according all the sources she could find, a perfectly normal soldier who had made quite a bit of gold on the slave market, if his credit balances were to be believed. So he was the usual clientele. And proof again that getting caught on this ship was quite near the top of nightmare outcomes. His particular wanted ad was for an extremely rare and hard to acquire charge rifle, and he was prepared to pay quite handsomely for it. The vidcoms had shown hefty quantities of plundered drugs and large credit deposit cleverly labeled, "Fruit Purchase Order." And to back everything up for any tax authorities, she'd been sure to purchase a bit of produce from the last colony back.

And getting this particular weapon for her new client had not been the easiest work she'd ever done, but she'd been quite proud of her team for its...acquisition. The payout from this sale would cover any arrest warrants for the man she'd sent in to steal it and then some. And when this paid off, she'd have a gateway into the underground Kurian weapons trading. If she survived it for just a few years, she and her team would be set for life.

She shook her head out of her daydreaming to return to the imminent finish. Her high valued product lay atop expensive fabrics on a nearby table. Her most experienced technician was performing a last-minute once over to ensure product integrity. She wouldn't come all this way just to bungle the handling at the last minute.

Several harsh lights hung over the table to illuminate every nook and cranny for inspection. There were a couple scrapes and scratches from its previous owner, but she doubted her client could find another gun like this anytime in the near future for what he was offering, and he seemed rather fine with that on the comms. A couple crates of fruit were already in the cargo bay of their boarding ship, and she aimed to empty them and stow her new products in the containers for the return trip.

"Pack it up, Jensen. And get your gear," she ordered the technician. "You're coming with." The thin, ragged man nodded once before reverently stowing the weapon away in its custom made case. They'd been sure to add a small decal of fruit to it for the sake of appearance. "At least look like you're a fruit merchant. Put your hair in a hat or something."

She waved at two other mercenaries - both half Kurian - to follow her, Jensen, and Conrad into the small boarding ship. Once she was sure everyone was buckled in and looking like innocent fruit salesmen and women, she too buckled up in the cockpit, Conrad in the seat next to her.

She adjusted her favorite cap, smiling in the mirror at the ostentatious plumage feathering out the side of it. Her frizzy brown curls struggled to break free of their prison, but she tucked them back as best as she could. She pulled her burgundy jacket close, wanting the warmth and faux protection it offered before starting the engines.

They all waited for the bay doors to open before cruising out towards The Panacea.

They were an hour when Layal opened her com device a final time to phone her customer. She didn't want to waste any more time aboard that deathtrap than was absolutely necessary. And she'd cut that down too if she could.

"I'm roughly an hour out," she said in lieu of greeting. "Which bay do you want us to use?"

"You can use the cook's kitchen bay," a short, round faced Kurian growled. She doubted he was angry. He just always sounded exceptionally gruff and grumpy as a personality type. "It's on the starboard side in the middle section. Used for these kinds of deliveries. I'll turn on the light for you. Me n my kitchen staff will help you out."

"Starboard middle, got it. Will your systems pick us up?"

"Shouldn't. Asked a guy in maintenance, n he said they not on high alert right now neither." He shrugged, throwing a glance behind him. "You're all set."

She ended the comm and scowled a little. The man couldn't really be that stupid. What brain dead lug-nut would go about asking anyone about current security measures? She hoped he had a bit more sleuthing to him than he made it sound.

"You catch all that Conrad?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll pitch her around the side. Middle, look for a light," he repeated. He fiddled around with the controls a tad, and the ship changed angles to complete its new trajectory.

"And you know what to do if this thing goes south?"

"Yeah. I get out. I get the others out. And I send your letter out to your mum."

Layal nodded. Her team getting out was the most important. She'd spent years getting the best and brightest criminals together, and she'd be damned if it all went to shit on one drop.

The hour passed in a monotonous drone of the engines and Conrad's loud breathing. She'd need a well deserved trip to a masseuse to knead out the knots forming in her back after this for sure. After what felt like forever, they finally pulled up to the bay doors and eased in. 

She hopped out of the jumper ship, her stomach doing flips. She checked for exits, but found the only one other door in the far corner of the room, and she doubted she'd want to head through it if push came to shoved. Instead, she and her boarding crew pulled out several of their crates of fruit, Jensen handling the most expensive one.

Her client and several of his staff members came out to greet them carrying several similar cargo containers of promised collateral. The Kurians aboard this ship were much smaller than the half-bloods in her crew. The tallest among them couldn't have been a breath taller than her if that. Except for Roth, they were all dressed rather similarly in mundane work clothes. Roth wore an exceptionally bulky set of overalls.

"Pleasure to meet you finally, Captain Juscarl," he rumbled, red eyes almost squinting in the hint of a grin. "Let's see my produce order, then." He approached much too quickly for Layal to be comfortable, but she motioned Jensen.

"If you'd like to take a look, I'll start loading this into my runner here," she replied, again motioning for her other two mercenaries to begin working.

"Of course, of course." Jensen set the prized container on the ground with more care than she'd seen him ever handle something, and she nodded, quite pleased. When he opened it, Roth's brows shot up into his hairline. "Gods above, I never thought I'd manage to actually see it with my own eyes." He reached into the container to skim his fingertips over the crafted metal.

"Yes, and once I get the remaining credits in my bank, it's all yours," she reminded him. She could barely keep her foot from tapping. But she let him inspect his new toy until he finally looked back at her.

"Alright. Deal's a deal," he said, nodding at Conrad.

At Conrad... She quickly jumped away from the humorously dressed beefcake of a traitor who was pulling out a small handgun that was aimed at poor Jensen. Conrad's mouth was pulled into a roughly hewn approximation of a smile as he pulled the trigger, and her favorite technician, unhygienic though he was, fell to the ground with barely a gasp.

The supposed kitchen staff also drew their weapons and shot at her much beloved crew, but with electric bolts intended to subdue their targets. One of her mercs managed to almost find cover behind the runner ship, but his foot took a hit, paralyzing him enough for a follow-up shot. The final merc managed to fully pull himself behind the ship, but she knew he didn't have enough firepower to hold anyone off. And if he got in the ship and managed to start the engines, where would he go? The exit doors were shut, and they wouldn't be opened from this side.

She looked down when she felt a hot slap against her abdomen and was surprised to see blood soaking into her beautiful jacket. When another bullet shot through her stomach, she felt the impact of it and dropped to the ground, the sound around her beginning to blur together like she was underwater.

"You stupid bastard, you're not supposed to shoot them with those rounds," she heard someone roar, but really, was it that important if she was bleeding here? She tried to move her lips but wasn't really sure if she was making progress. Everything around her was something of a blur. Everything that wasn't a light source was too dark. And the lights themselves were blinding starbursts.

The pain she'd been unable to feel initially settled in as a white-hot burn which wasn't entirely unfamiliar. That didn't make it any more pleasant. She focused on breathing through her nose while more shots rang out, more yelling, and finally, blessed silence.

When someone finally nudged her with their boot, she flinched away, watching as a new trickle of blood flowed out. The sight disgusted her. There was more commotion, and the boot came back, pushing her onto her back without much resistance. She spluttered when the pain amplified but struggled to remain conscious.

____________________________________________

She must have passed out at some point, because she awoke. And waking up was a sure sign that one have been asleep.

The room was oddly silent, and she couldn't hear any hum of machines or engines or anything really. Only her own labored breathing. She tried to grip her stomach which was complaining madly at its recent past, but found her wrists chained to... a hospital bed.

She glanced around in hopes of finding anything that could give her more information. The room was lit dimly, perhaps indicative of a night cycle, perhaps a courtesy to her recent trauma. But since she apparently hadn't been given any pain medication, she highly doubted the assumed courtesy. She jerked her head around, trying to garner more information, but the dimness and lack of ambient sound worried her some. Perhaps they'd taken her augments?

She tried to wiggle all of her toes and noted with some satisfaction that she had indeed maintained her original foot and her prosthetic. All ten toes responded. But the wound in her stomach flared up, and this time she couldn't help but groan. Immediately, she heard a door in the wall open, and a clearly Kurian doctor rushed in.

He started muttering to her, but she couldn't understand a single word. That's when she knew that someone somehow had turned off her implant.

"Hey Doctor," she rasped. When was the last time she'd had any water? "Doctor, I can't understand you." She was pleased when the androgynous man paused his motions and nodded.

She was *not* pleased, however, when the man's unnaturally long fingers began kneading around her head, and she was far from happy when he placed a metal orb right next to her beloved upgrade. There was some more muttering, a whir, and with a small zap, her cochlear powered on. And that was the most uncomfortable part as her brain jolted with the onslaught of more information. Suddenly the gentle hum of the engines rattled her brain. There was in fact a vitals monitor nearby and it was its own siren. The lights hummed, the bed cot creaked, her lungs were too loud, someone coughed nearby, and that was a gunshot in her ear. Every breath, already a fantastic punch in her injured gut, was a rusty train grinding on metal tracks.

She wished they'd turn it off.

"Sorry, I will turn that down," the doctor whispered. He repeated the previous operation, and a few seconds later, the word was bearable. "I hope that that is better."

"Yeah," she responded, "yeah thanks." She waited a beat to gain her bearings before continuing. "What's the damage? Where is my team? What's going on?" *Why am I alive?*

"Your warden will address the legal issues. I can only provide medical information. But I am your doctor, Zhraya Vanos," he informed her as he checked her vitals once more. He leaned over her, hands poised to check her bandages. "I must check your wounds and change the dressing." When she nodded for him to proceed, his cool fingers got to work. It was not at all pleasant, as he still hadn't given her any fucking painkiller.

"Your injuries were fairly serious," he continued. Having never touched a Kurian before, she was a little disgusted that his fingers were dryer and almost scaly. She'd seen enough vods to assume that it wouldn't feel that much different, but she was wrong. "You lost much blood, but we were able to synthesize enough to infuse you with more. Luckily your biology is similar to ours inside, and my team and I, we repaired your interior. With some minor adjustments, of course."

"Wait, minor adjustments? What does that mean?" She could really use some water.

"Just some small additions and modifications, nothing too serious. We hope."

She clenched her jaw and glared at him. His red eyes met her own, and he shrugged as if were perfectly reasonable to just...drop that bomb on someone and not back it up with actual information. 

"Fine, if you won't tell me what the hell you've done, can I have something for the pain? Or some water?"

"Water, yes, you've lost much blood," he muttered, finishing his wrapping. He turned around to fetch what she hoped was water at a sink of sorts. It was hard to tell when she barely see over the tops of her feet. He returned with a rather innocuous looking cup, but she wasn't daft enough to trust him. Her thirst outweighed her distrust, though, as soon as a straw was brough to her lips. 

The first drop exploded on her tongue in an unfair burst of life and colour. She greedily slurped it down, letting the cool liquid drain down her throat. It wasn't until she reached the end of it that she realized it was more viscous than water.

"Don't worry, just many added supplements, electrolytes, pain killers, antibiotics, and a few flavor crystals for taste. Standard drink aboard this ship for all patients," he said when she glared at him. 

Despite the good doctor's clear cases of deception, Layal decided she could have had someone much worse at her bedside. Already she could feel her tongue return to an actual organ instead of sandpaper from the hardwood store, and the jolting throbs in her gut resided to a more subdued burn.

"I'm sure you would like more for the pain, but I would like you awake and aware of your sensations in case of complications," he explained, setting the cup on the end table. "None of us are exactly experts on your species."

"And what of my team? What about Jensen? Conrad? Hunsha? Aaron?" She only hoped Conrad was alive in the hope that she could kill him herself. 

"I will tell you that all of your companions are alive and in custody. That is all I am at leave to say."

Layal nodded. She wouldn't get anything more out this Zhayal Vanos. She grit her teeth together in thought and mild discomfort. Now that she knew she was stuck for a while, she could stew over what happened. She should have trusted her gut, she should have just ignored the call of coin, she should have, she should have, she should have.

But she hadn't. She'd taken in Conrad knowing damn well that the old bear had a sketchy history behind him, but oh no. *She was different*, she'd told herself. He wouldn't *dare* betray her for some petty cash. She idly wondered how much cash had been offered. She didn't think any of the crew he'd captured would fetch too much on the markets, but she'd never really followed the prices for different species like some of the others had. She'd never stopped them from taking prisoners. It was an ancient tradition: souls plundered in war were property of the winners. It wasn't a practice unique to humans, and it wasn't morally an issue for her crew.

If she ever managed to find him - and she literally created an entire business based on finding and acquiring things - she would eviscerate him with sharpened fragments of his own tibia. She spent several minutes ruminating on potential torture techniques until Vanos told her to stop riling herself up. Her blood pressure was getting too high.

So she pondered the fate of her crew. Vanos had mentioned that her crew were alive and well, but did that include Jensen? Was he getting the treatment he needed? Conrad had been remarkably close to him. And where the hell did the weapon go to? It'd taken her 6 weeks and a several rounds of drinks to acquire the thing, and her reward was the promise of eternal slavery. Perfect.

Everything was just fine. This was *perfectly* fine.


	2. Med Bay And Pray

Her time in the prisoner med-bay passed with little fanfare. She was kept well fed and nourished. For two days she lay chained to the bed until Vanos indicated that she could be taken to a regular holding cell. When it was finally time, her new captor and his small team of military police came to escort her.

He was an unremarkable figure, she decided, upon seeing him march in with his arms ramrod straight at his side. His eyes were a deep red, almost burgundy, and his white hair was shorn close to his head save for a braid interwoven with chain that fell all the way to his chest. He wore what she assumed was a rather uncomfortable military uniform. It was a cream colored piece with a condemning crest of the 8th Great House of Kur imprinted in the middle. The conceited symbol glittered with every breath the shorter man took. It was the only part about him that she could find remarkable at all.

The natural response, her body had decided for her upon seeing the gaudy letter, was naturally to break into cold sweats. Though that could have been attributed to the grievous wound in her stomach, and she chose to believe that over the cowardly response. It could always be worse, she told herself.

"Zhayal Vanos has indicated that your recovery has progressed well enough," he said upon entering the room. Like many Kurians she'd had the misfortune of meeting, he too had a gravely voice. "With much thanks to my head chef, you are now in custody of House Kur with me, Captain Uthva, leading your case. You will receive a telecommunicated trial with the rulers of House Guarndemzhau on the next day cycle."

"I demand to be extradited," she responded, voice steady. She was still chained until her escort decided it was time to move, so she couldn't pull away from him or even stand up. 

"I have orders to keep you here and present you to the rulers of House Guarndemzhau on the next day cycle," he repeated as he looked down his nose at her.

He waved his men forward to undo her current restraints. She briefly considered trying to fight her way out but knew that she'd easily be overpowered and increase the misery of her stay. The two police were not gentle or particularly concerned with her comfort. Their grips were too tight, their gloves were rough and textured for better friction on their weapons, and they didn't care to let her try to pull herself forward. With the care of a rabid elephant, they snapped on her new arm cuffs. They were steel cases for her hands that ended just before her elbows. Escape would be impossible with these things on unless she could manage to clock someone on the side of the head. That was keep them down for a while.

But there was no way she could accomplish that right now. She decided to wait and see what the course of action would be. She might be able to slip and... and do what exactly? She'd still be trapped on the ship. No, decided as they locked her away in barren metal box, her best bet would be when they transported her off the ship. She would have to focus of gaining her strength until that moment.

________________

"The council," it seemed, was one young man on a screen accompanied by a sour looking woman and a smaller man off to the side who kept a barely neutral expression. All three of them were wearing their house colors of cream and gold but more comfortable in fashion than that of the captain aboard the ship.

The man sitting at the center seemed to be the most excited for the proceedings. His dark hair was cut in a traditional three piece style typical of the newer royals across the galaxy, and in his left ear was a long chain affixed with his family jewels, no doubt. Layal recalled stealing a couple similar commodities in the past but couldn't be sure if she'd stolen any from this particular family house. His eyes were crimson and far too joyous for such an occassion. She knew she'd seen him on some recent news vods somewhere. He looked too familiar. Or maybe he was too inbred for her to tell any of these guys apart...

On his right and all but slouching in the chair sat a woman with equally dark hair and dark brown eyes who had a look of such apathy that Layal questioned who was actually going to suffer from her trial the most. Much like the man in front, she too had a long chain in her left ear with similar gaudy jewels resting against her neck. Her clothes were not as silken as the man's, and her overall aura was that this was an indulgence to him.

And finally, the third individual was a smaller androgynous man holding a subtle smirk and tablet, presumable for record keeping. His uniform was significantly more military, and there was no chain in his ear that she could see. The left side of his head was shaved close to his scalp, but the rest was fairly long.

From what Layal knew of this particular ruling family, she was certain that they had more than three members. In fact, most of the ruling houses were just like-minded families that rallied under one banner. The rest of the politics were lost to her. But Guardemzhau was known their colossal wealth even amongst the other eight houses, if the rumors were to be believed. So, she thought, she probably *had*nabbed a piece of jewelry or two over the years.

"Antus, begin records," the man in the middle commanded at the man behind him. He pushed himself further forward in his seat, clearly eager. "Hello, Layal Juscar dem Marsa. I am Lord Keth Guarndemzhau. This is the Lady Yashwe Guarndemzhau, and recording and weighing in on these proceedings, is the Admiral Antus. Let's cut this straight to the point, shall we?"

When none of the others said anything, he took a deep breath and glanced to the right of the camera, probably to read her long list of charges. She scowled, gears in her brain grinding together as she wondered how to get out of this. 

"Let's see here," he began. "Caught selling stolen goods without a liscense aboard a military vessel in a sector that already has a small warrant out for your arrest. Wow, that... I gotta give you credit for that maneuver there, *astallo.* Never seen a mutt with such....such guts. I also feel like you've metaphorically spat at me and my family. These chargers are quite serious, halfling. Yeshwe, Antus! I say this is quite serious indeed!"

"Yes, quite serious indeed, dearest," Yeshwe parroted in a sarcastic tone. She had begun to truly slouch in her seat, chin resting on her fist. The vast wealth of her family adorned her exposed arm in the form of gaudy bracelets that jangled through the televod.

"Yes, Lord Keth, these are serious charges," Antus said, finally showing some teeth. "What is your directive?"

"I'm glad you asked, Antus!" He was entirely too theatrical, and the whole thing seemed rehearsed or overdone to Layal. Just as she had feared, this wasn't a real trial, and it wasn't being taken seriously at all. "Normally I would only sentence this criminal to the work camps on Saes'Lon, but this insult to my great house cannot stand. The pride of my family will not allow it. I hereby strip you of your surname. You will become property of my house. You will become less than nothing. You filthy half-blooded mutt. All in favor of sending this beast to the slave stocks, speak now."

The two behind him voiced their agreements in a sighed affirmative and an emphatic "yes!" Lady Yeshwe couldn't care less what happened to her, Layal knew. The Admiral Antus struck her as more a hype man than anything else. And neither of their opinions would sway the very real fate of becoming property.

"You can't do this to me! I demand a fair trial! You didn't even give me a chance to defend myself at all!" Layal shouted, voice wavering. She wished to thrash around or run or throw up or *something* but the police keeping her in their vice-like grips wouldn't allow for anything. Her skin broke out in cold sweats, her back muscles clenched, and she wished desperately not for the first time that she never accepted this fucking contract. "I'm not even a citizen of your nation! You can't fucking do this to me!"

"You will learn your place, mutt, and you will learn what your betters can and can't do," Keth snapped as he let his mouth twist into a snarl. Yeshwe, for her part, finally seemed to pay her some mind.

"Shut that creature up!" Yeshwe had barely waited for her husband to finish before injecting herself into the conversation at last. She'd similarly pushed herself forward in her chair, finger pointed at screen. "Muzzle her, cut out her tongue, sedate her, beat her, I don't care! But keep it controlled, for all of Etu's light! I won't have some animal speak to me in such a way! "

And then the most humiliating addition to her plight came from a third police officer. He shoved a bar into between her teeth, and the plated muzzle covered the lower half of her face. Her teeth rang from the rough treatment, and the honest to god chains cinched her dirty mane of hair and dug into her cheeks. Not a muzzle made for comfort.

"You've upset my wife!" Keth roared. Layal could swear a vein was throbbing in his neck. "When I get my hands on you, you'll beg Pazhu to reap your soul!" He immediately turned to his wife who had now relaxed against her ornate chair and was refusing to look at the screen once again. But this time her jaw was set, and her husband's hands fettered over her, almost afraid anything more than a light butterfly touch would reignite her fury. "My dearest Yeshwe, I shall protect you and your heart. She will be punished accordingly."

Layal didn't dare move a muscle. Breathing through the muzzle was horrible, the chains hurt, and she feared even twitching would irritate the obstacle further. And watching the husband and wife interact felt like a soap opera. But she was about to experience a very real punishment, she was sure of it.

Antus, off to the side of the couple didn't appear to be uncomfortable with their outbursts at all. If anything, he smiled widely, burgundy eyes almost reduced to slits in his evident glee.

"Not by your hand, my heart," she heard Yeshwe murmur. If it wasn't so vile and wrong, and if she weren't on the receiving end of this conversation, Layal would almost consider it rather sweet that her husband cared for her so much, and she him. "Don't dirty yourself with her much." She paused, a pensive look crossing her aristocratic face. "It's... our cousin... her thirtieth name day celebration... she might like another gift for her games, don't you agree?"

And that was how Layal discovered that Keth was completely whipped. For even though he looked momentarily disheartened at not executing painful, long, horrendous punishment on her himself, he quickly nodded. The malicious smile that stretched across his face mirrored Antus's perfectly.

"Yes. Yes, my dearest, " He turned away from his wife to glare into the screen where Layal still stood, still as she could. "Yes, Tevos will quite enjoy fixing this one up. Guards, take this vermin to the holding cells below. I'll find your ship when you reach port here at Jyeshaun." He waved them off, turning slightly towards his wife.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she was drug away from the scene, and she struggled momentarily to stay upright and dig her heals into the metal floor. It was no use of course, but she knew she couldn't cause a scene, not without any means of immediate escape. There was still hope that she could get out of this. The moment this stupid ship touched base in party-town USA, she had a very real chance. She just needed to wait, to be patient, that was it. She knew how to lay low. This was just the riskiest moment of her life *so far*.

She pondered again, now in the minimally furnished box of her cell, what would become of her captured crew. If they were to have been sent to a trial, it certainly wasn't with her. Unless they would receive the same punishment she would get. In which case she had potentially fucked everyone over. But she didn't have to tell them that it was her fault.

But it *was* all her fault, she reminded herself. It was her choice alone to take the mission. It was her choice to hire Conrad. It was her choice to board this stupid ship. And it was her choice to bring her mercs with her. Either which way, she lay down for the evening to scheme her means of escape. She couldn't rescue anyone from inside this box. Break-out first, rescue second.


	3. Chapter 3

It was three dull days sitting in her box where everything remained absolutely the same. Down in the prison cells, there was always the unmuted thrum of the engines which rarely fluctuated. Twice a day, someone came with her gloops of meal paste. It was the same gelatinous bar of bland jello each time, and though she wasn't very hungry throughout the day, she still didn't find it satisfying. And even though her meager surroundings seamed cleaned, she could all too often catch the tang of excess body odor.

That was another thing, she noted. The cells next to her definitely had occupants. While her muzzle had been removed, she had no way of telling who else was nearby. She had tried, once, to ask who was in the cells beside her. But when a prison guard came barreling into her cell and started screaming at her, she decided to use other means. Tapping on the walls proved to be another fantastic idea in her recent list of "activities that only brought trouble." The healing bruise on her sternum was a decent enough reminder to communication policy here in the dungeons.

So by the time the sound of the ship engines changed from the dull hum of usual to a lower timbre and then the entire ship jolted ever so slightly, Layal was beyond ready for a change of pace. The wound in her stomach had mostly healed, and all that was left was a small scar. They'd given her a dull smock to wear, and though it wasn't the finest fabric in the universe, it was better than...honestly maybe nothing was better, she decided.

The jolt though, it had to be a landing, but she could tell that they were still moving. It wasn't until some time later that she felt a final jolt, certain that this time that made planet-fall. The aforementioned party city no doubt. An easy place to lose oneself in, she reminded herself eagerly. All she needed was one chance, one mispositioned grip, and she knew she could slip away.

When her guards came, they snapped on not a muzzle but a metal collar with little give. She could almost feel her pulse hammering against the plate. Probably laced with a tracker of some kind, she noted. But that was something she could work with. The difficult part were the cuffs. Unlike the full metal casts from her "trial," these were a much simpler pair of metal rings that magnetically snapped to each other. Simple and effective. Not impossible. It was a small gift from the fickle goddess of fate.

The most surprising part of her march out, was that she finally was able to see her old crew mates. Except Conrad, obviously. If he was smart, he would have dipped out already. Probably stole her ship along the way. She'd find out eventually what his plan was. But there were more important time sensitive matters at hand. Each of her three crew mates were out in front of her in smocks not unlike hers. From the shock of black hair, she could see Jensen in front, flanked by his two guards. Hunsha and Aaron were also flanked by two guards each, but Aaron must have tried picking a fight at some point since his guards were extra close to him.

If the speed of the procession towards the cargo bay door was anything to go by, Jensen was either still weak from the ambush, or everyone was more layered in restraints than her. Playing it slow was working overall, it seemed. 

The bays doors opened into a well lit underground bunker if the smell was anything to go by. No matter where in the galaxy Layal went, bunkers always smelled roughly the same: dank and a tad musty. In a sick way, it reminded her of her home growing up on the Martian colonies where 95% of everything was underground.

The difference here was that she couldn't read a damn thing. Unlike every other planet she'd ever visited in her life, everything here was in Kurian. The numbers were in Kurian. The various directions were in Kurian, platform instructions, the blaring of the PA system. She could understand the PA system, at least, blaring schedule changes and typical tourist instructions. Various advertisements competed against each other over the din of tourists, movements, and shuttles.

She desperately took in everything she could with such limited information. She managed to get a final glimpse of the ship behind her: an enormous black monstrosity that looked like it had detached from the main ship as a subcompartment and was embellished, she could see up close, with the glittering insignia of its House. How fancy.

But on both sides of the enormous compartment were other ships loading in and out of the docking bunker in various stages of unload. Many of them had obvious party-goers and younger Kurians, evidenced by their lighter attire and many bags and suitcases. The ship in front of hers was unloading several soldiers who looked much more casual than the ones escorting her and her friends. But the port looked busy enough that the moment she needed to, she could bolt and get lost in the bustling crowds. As long as no one looked too closely at her attire - and she could tell she stuck out like a sore thumb - she could make it, she figured. The exit had to be...well it had to be somewhere. She could follow a group of people.

She let herself be guided forwards, the throngs of people giving her no mind. After all, it must be rather common for soldiers to arrest prisoners off world all the time. That and she would bet a hefty sum that many of these people were on drugs already. She'd been to other frat cities before, she knew the game. 

It wasn't until she had a clear eyeful of the opened gates ahead stuffed with the outflow of bodies and luggage that she knew where to go. And it was the moment the floor sloped upwards in a gentle incline that she felt the hands on her shoulder slacken enough. The moment that happened, she shouldered the guard to her right and bolted as fast as she could up the incline, dodging around the soldiers in front and around a nearby group of travelers. She was already halfway to the massive doors when she slipped into a troupe of inebriated tourists, eyeing around them for other groups to blend into. She could hear the soldiers hot on her tail, but waited to catch her breath before she started a scene running off into the rest of the unknown.

The natural brightness and humidity past the portal doors took her aback slightly, and one of the drunk men behind her bumped into her causing her to stumble aside. Though none of the buildings here were as tall as some of the ones of other planets, these were clearly made with "Aesthetic" in mind. Many of the closer buildings were just modified jungles and man-made ecosystems built into the structures. The balconies were flooded with onlookers cheering at large vod screens showing what appeared to be a small melee. Many people had stopped past the wide street of exit doors to point and stare at the vods or assorted buildings or stare down at maps, creating an obnoxious set of obstacles.

She didn't have time to think too much about what even was being hosted before she heard a soldier shout "there she is!" That was her cue to make a bolt for the next unsuspecting group of party-goers. The soldiers behind her were nothing like the more relaxed police on other planets she'd visited. These guys didn't care who they shoved aside and pushed down in their mad flight to apprehend her. She heard the angry screams and shouts behind her as she ran with the steady current of bodies flowing towards what she assumed was a city center piece.

She kept running for a couple hundred meters more, a stitch developing in her side. She chanced slipping into a small shop selling overpriced souvenirs if she had to take a guess. It wasn't like she could read anything in there. Careful to avoid the concerned looking customers and many breakable knick knacks, she shuffled away from the wide windows and into a corner. She twisted her hands around as best as she could while also raising her left, bionic leg, praying to any deity that would listen that the doctor hadn't fucked with anything too much.

When her thumb pad came in contact with her ankle bone, she heard the small hiss that made her heart soar. Like most body mods she had, her leg was a Class 2, and as such had a couple outfitted benefits. One of those was the built in thermoknife. The other was not being able to stub her toes. The trade off was she was rarely ever to move silently.

She ignored the strange looks she was getting as she manuevered the blade for her feet to hold. She hoped that the heat would disable the magnets, but she'd sauder off at least one if she could and worry about the collar later. Definitely steal some clothes. Find a place to take a shower, and bribe someone to get her off-world. She shook her head to focus on the most immediate task. The blade was heating up as was the voice of whatever program was on the televods.

She angled the bright orange glowing blade towards the her left wrist. If something happened, it was better if she lost her left hand. Most of the mods were on that side of her body anyways. She could shoot better with her right hand anyways. More beads of sweats popped up along her forehead, and she could smell the days of no real shower taking their toll on her. The heat of knife worried her, but she managed to push it into the metal. It eschewed a high pitched whine and the heat burnt her wrist. She'd have blisters for sure.

The metal in the cuffs sputtered enough for her rip her right hand away and wiggle the knife around so she could hold it properly. She glanced up when she heard some small applause. Apparently she'd garnered an audience.

A woman came up to her, her face pinched in a frown of displeasure.

"I ask that you take your performances out onto the street," she said. Her hands rested on her hips, and her reddish eyes narrowed. "My shop is no place for stunts."

A couple tipsy shoppers closest to her booed at the woman, insisting she stay, but Layal knew her time was spent. She chose not to oust herself, and only nodded, shuffling quickly towards the door to avoid making a scene. The drunk shoppers followed her out of the shop and started cheering her on. That's when she knew she was screwed.

"There she is!" a soldier cried out. Two men bolted forward to apprehend her, shoving aside the pedestrians on the street. She took off behind her, flowing much more freely between bodies now that her hands weren't bound.

The current of the crowd pulsed towards a large dome that dominated the city district. The roar of whatever audience was inside began to drown out the typical noise of the city. Anyone who wanted to speak to the person next to them - and that was most of the people out here - had to shout to be heard. The announcer wasn't even speaking at this point. The crowd was cheering and riling itself up on its own.

The shadow of the dome loomed over everything, blocking the blue sun from burning anyone below. The smell of local street food and alien body odor choked her lungs as she continued to gasp for breath and snake around people. The glittering purple body of the dome - a colosseum if she had to name the thing - gifted her a large opening towards which she made her way. The crowd was too loud at this point for her to even hear the blood rushing through her ears.

When she reached a ring of stairs to take upwards, she quickly realized why.

It *was* a colosseum. The arena in the middle was the size of a professional soccer field, but it was soaked in all sorts of bodily fluids and probably spilled drinks. The large vod screens placed around the stadium didn't bother to cover up the intestines, instead flaunting them. Stumbling around fighting in a clumsy melee were several humanoids - it was hard to tell from far away what they were. They were failing to fend off an increasing number of armored canines that rushed towards them.

Not only was this a blood sport, it seemed the local populace enjoyed animal cruelty. It was absolutely barbaric. She shuffled along with the crowd, many of whom were finding places to sit, but it was evident there were more people than seats. Getting lost here was so easy, she thought to herself. She could allow herself a moment to think out her next plan of attack.

But as the last hominid in the ring died noisily to the monstrous hounds, the announcer took himself back to the microphone, hovering out into the middle of the ring. Layal found herself as good a spot as any to rest for a moment pushed against the railing, flanked by tipsy strangers. She was finally able to slip her knife back into her leg. The arena quieted considerably as the announcer called for everyone's attention. Below, the corpses were being cleaned up, the blood and guts also being mopped up. The people on her right began to whisper to themselves, but she focused her attention on the closest vod screen.

"What a day we have had, Jyeshaun," he bellowed. His hair was in long braids interwoven with glittering ribbons, and his ears even had a small piercing near the top. He'd dyed his hair a vibrant unnatural red and lined his face with matching red paint, either as elegant war paint or makeup. She wasn't up to date on Kurian culture. His clothing was rather minimal and something she expected of club-goer. "I hope you're all ready. Several of the scions of the Great Houses have arrived here in our beloved city!"

The crowd cheered and the announcer quieted them down as he spun around. The holo-barrier shimmered a light blue, a massive crest pulling itself around. She couldn't understand what it was, but it worked the already vibrating crowd into a frenzy. The cameras panned to the faces of several gaudily clad attendants sporting family crests behind them or on their clothes. A few seemed to have indulged themselves in the morning festivities already, their faces irritated with the local star's heat and radiation or flushed from drink. They were yelling with the crowd, eager to lead. Several of the more severe looking individuals had colored paint on their faces as well, often to match their crests. They waved or nodded politely at the passing cameras or sipped from their nearby drinks.

The obsession with house distinction, while she understood the need to self-elevate one's status, was beginning to grate on her nerves a tad.

The frenzied crowd started chanting, and her implant practically whirred to keep up with all the voices. Many of them started stomping their feet in beat to their fevered chant. Layal worried her heartbeat would reset permanantly to the rythm of the audience. The rails and landing vibrated with the synchronized chorus of an eager mob. She could barely make it out, and the translation in her head didn't match up to the beat. Some primitive barbarism that translated to: Blood brings home honor.

It was so uncivilized.

That and if she had to guess, most of these people hadn't had more than a pub brawl at the worst day of their life. The translation didn't make much sense, but it meant something to the roaring bodies around her. The announcer waiting for it to die down before flashing his pointed teeth and continuing.

"Yes, we support our troops among the stars and we support our troops on the homeworld. Glory to Kur!" The crowd erupted again, but in a sonorous obligatory chant that died after 3 rounds, for which Layal's head was infinitely thankful. "But who amongst us is so celebrated as the esteemed guest for whom today's festivities are held? Who amongst us has brough more honor to Kur than the last scion of House Lonshir? Who amongst us is as triumphant as Tevos Lonshir?"

The cameras panned away from him to an Amazon of a Kurian riding out onto the field on a 4 legged lizard of considerable size. The crowd roared anew, and the rails shook from the excited fans pulling and pushing against it. Across the way, she could see the mass of people swarm up and forwards. She thought she could make out flags or maybe even shirts being waved around. People behind her surged forwards, pinning her to the rails. Someone spilled a drink on her, and confetti fell on her head. Even if the guards managed to find her in this crowd, there was no way they could get to her. 

The flying camera drones zoomed in on her face to project the image on the screens. The guest of honor was a monstrous entity. It was a smiling trap of modified teeth that were filed to points and glistening with an unholy luminescence. Its skin was paler than any living creature's had the right to be and streaked with light blue swirls of war paint. The sides of her head were shaved and left only a long black mop of hair on the top pulled into a practical ponytail that flopped against her back. Astride even its behemoth of a mount, Layal could tell this particular Kurian was tall and broad shouldered. In her minimal armor - again, why was everyone here dressed in so little? - her sleek muscles flexed against the light. The slight difference of musculature between human and Kurian was more pronounced in this single royal twat than anyone in the entire stadium, Layal was sure of it.

And she couldn't pull her eyes away from her. 

With the crowd still roaring that the very air vibrated, Tevos hopped from her mount when they stopped in the center of the arena. She gave an incredibly deep bow to in six directions of the stadium. An employee of some sort escorted her....lizard back out the way they had come. And all that was left in the stained arena was a relatively large Kurian woman smiling and waving for the cameras.

Layal had never heard of this apparently amazing celebrity in all her travels, but she had heard of House Lonshir, mostly when she slighted a pureblood and they cursed her name to the heavens. "Better pray that you don't wind up in a Lonshir lab, you halfbreed," would be the most common threat she would hear after the usual "fuck you, [insert expletive here]" or "I'll fucking murder you." Even in such a wide galaxy, some people never got too creative. That being said, it wasn't unheard of for a distraught drunkard to threaten to go to the local constables of the nearby ruling house.

But none of that would help her escape her current predicament, and it seemed she would have to wait for whatever feral energy had possessed the crowd to finally die down before she could so much as scratch an itch.

The red haired announcer was finally able to speak over the volume of the crowd who was eager to watch some real action at this point.

"In particular, we are here to honor the recent victory at Indoth and the thirtieth name day of our beloved war hero." He raised his hands to quiet the crowd before they could explode beyond containment again. "To honor our opening match, we have Admiral Antus of House Guarndemzhau, to duel Tevos Lonshir." The announcer listed several inane battles Layal had never heard of that apparently Antus...why was that name familiar... had fought in. "Winner is whoever draws first blood."

The cameras panned downwards towards the new combatant, and Layal could see that this Antus was the same Antus from the shitty council that passed judgement on her. She hoped that "first blood" meant the guy's head got lopped off. The long hair he had was now braided and banded against his skull. She itched to cave it in. He wore the dazzling ivory white of his house in a simple tunic that cut off before his beige kilt and showed his star-burned skin. He bowed first to six directions in the stadium and then bowed even deeper to his opponent who returned the gesture with less depth. 

Two attendees each carrying fierce melee weapons marched into the stadium. Tevos grasped the shaft of a short plain metal spontoon. The blade itself was a simple, most likely dulled edge that had clearly been polished and coated in some black finish. The shaft was wrapped in a black leather of sorts Layal had to guess from the vod screen. Layal expected Tevos to perform some superfluous excersize and spin the spear around, but she only inspected the tool and thanked the paige.

Antus on the other hand, pulled out a heavy looking broad-bladed falchion with a wide guard. He gave it a few swings to feel the weight of it before turning towards the nearest camera head he could find to show off his dexterity with it. Despite it looking a tad too unbalanced for Layal's taste, she was disappointed to note that it did not seem he would accidentally lop off his own arm.

The crowd roared again, loving the attention and happy to return it. Antus thrived on it, holding his falchion aloft, dazzling teeth on display, red eyes squinting into the light of midday. Tevos did not engage with as much outward gusto. If anything, Layal snorted, she had the same face a mother would of a child who was having fun showing off to his friends about some mediocre achievement: polite amusement. On her otherwise carefully expressionless face, she dared let an insipid smile pull up her lips.

Their ensuing performance was undoubtedly just for show. They had clearly sparred enough in the past that they looked choreographed in front of an audience now. Antus brandished his falchion in wide arcs and flamboyant slices that his partner deftly dodged. What she couldn't see well of the figures in the sand below, the vods did well to cover instead.

Antus let out breathy shouts of exertion to punctuate his blows, but each one missed. The stiff face of his opponent broke out into a friendly grin, and that's how Layal knew that the match would end soon. After a particularly wide swing, Antus was pushed flat onto his back by a strong body check. Tevos finally used the pointy end of her spear to signal her victory. The drunk crowd stomped their feet as the announcer proclaimed victory for the guest of honor.

The vod screens around the colosseum focused on Antus's wide smile and sharp canines, his red eyes squinted in the light. Layal frowned at the screen, letting his face sear into her memory. He definitely carried a smugness around him that she would recognize when she came back to kill him. When the cameras focused on Tevos, she was clearly more reserved almost as if the entire ordeal was a courtesy event for her. She didn't have a sheen of sweat on her skin, her hair was still nearly perfect despite the heat and exertion, and she didn't seem to even be breathing harder. The grin didn't reach her eyes. 

Antus let a few of his fellow countrymen usher him off the floor while Tevos herself remained. To Layal, she looked quite uncomfortable, rubbing the toe of her shoe into the sand. 

The event was far from over. Layal's bruised ribs and sticky skin were not thrilled with the prospect. But, she supposed, considering that right after this she would need to high tale it out with guards on her heels, this wasn't the worst reprieve in the galaxy. The announcer called for attention as he ushered in the next event.

"What kind of name-day celebration would this be without any presents, eh?" He pointed towards a wide set of doors that were opening slowly. "The House of Dealek has sent your first gift: a fierce beast from The Blue World. Behold!"

From the doors emerged a wild, black, loud, feathered aberration. It was at least 3 meters tall, and its shoulders and neck carried the brunt of its overall mass. Its maw was a scaled cave of small teeth and a spearpoint beak that unleashed a scratchy squall with two too many pitches. The entire crowd recoiled as it screamed. It finally gave her a moment to push away from the rails and cover her ears.

"But what, oh great viewers, shall our champion use to slay such a beast?" He waited good naturedly while the monster roared. A few feathers had fallen off into the sand. She wondered idly how much such a creature cost to transport and if it was even worth it. Probably not if they were going to kill the damn thing. "From the House of Guarndemzhau, we have a 16 million edj charge rifle, one of the rarest and most expensive legal weapons in the galaxy!"

She couldn't believe it. The cameras zoomed in to show off the gun she had procured. Her own sweat, blood, and tears now presented as a birthday present to drunken savages in a blood sport competition. Despite its current use as an executioner''s axe - and Layal didn't doubt for a moment that this weapon hadn't seen its fair share of death - the cameras didn't do it justice.

While the crowd had been unenthused regarding the bird dinosaur...thing, there several appreciative nods through the audience around her. But her eyes were glued to the screen. Whoever prepped the gun had done at least the basic research. The ioniser was alive and crackling in its charge chamber. The blue electricity danced across the glass walls of its cage. The metallic sheen of tempered titanium steel alloy glistened in the sun. It seemed Tevos was just as struck by its majesty as Jensen had been when he'd first cleaned it up. For a blood-thirsty alien, perhaps she had decent taste in arms.

She reverently picked up the weapon, which Layal knew was a little less than 15 kilograms, with only a minor shift in her foot placement to indicate the weight of it. It was unweildly and much too large, at 1 and a half meters.

"Alright, good people of Jyeshaun, how good of a shot is the General of Lonshir? Can she hit our hosted dinner this evening?"

Well, at least they planned on eating the damn thing.

Tevos didn't step back away from the beast as it snapped off the arms of one of the handlers, choosing instead to kneel with the gun and take ready aim, her mouth pulling into a small frown. The other handlers bolted, none of them bothering to help their bleeding companion. The monster snapped around, its large front legs bowling over the last straggling deserter. Enraged and confused no doubt, it didn't bother eating its fallen prey, turning towards the next threat. By now Tevos had situated herself as well as she was going to get without a stand, and the handlers had escaped behind the massive doors through which they had entered.

The black dinosaur flexed its iridescent feathers so that a sheen of burgundy ruffled across its body. Another horrid screech erupted from the monster, and it jumped into a running charge. Layal wasn't sure what this "Blue World," but she knew she wouldn't be going there anytime soon.

The crowd held its breath, but Layal waited for the gun to go off. And when it did, pride swelled within her. The shot was almost as loud as a rocket engine ignition, and she swore she could see a faint shockwave from the nose of the gun follow behind the explosion of feathers where the animal had been hit. The force of the bullet stopped most of the creature's momentum so that it dropped into the sand and slid forward. Shocks of electricity raced over the scorched body, but that wasn't her concern anymore.

The barrier at the base of the stadium had been punctured, and the holo-barrier around the crowd flickered with the now faulty hardware. It would take a lot of time and resources for the local government to repair. Overall, not the worst trade-off in the galaxy.

But still not the best situation, but squandering government resources here meant less looking for her later. 

The swollen silence in the crowd lasted for but a moment before it erupted into drunken chaos. Some drunk Kurians were stoked that something died in the middle of the ring. Others realized that the barrier was down and that meant the safety net was gone. It didn't look like the singed monster in the sand would be getting up anytime soon of its own volition.

And Tevos had a mixed look of concern that her gun had done some impressive damage and disbelief that her gun had done that much damage. 

With the significant release of pressure behind her and the deluge of the crowd in her area deciding to leave, Layal took that as the best chance she would get to disappear. She kept her head down and eyes open for guards or police while the announcer called for peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just woke up one morning and had the idea. Hopefully I can add something good to the world.


End file.
